His Read online

  “Kids will come in the future. You have plenty of time. I would like us to wait until we have a few years to us. When we have settled into our marriage. Can we agree on that?”

  A small smile. “Why do all of your questions not sound like questions?”

  I allow a smile in return. “Maybe because I’m not used to asking. I’m used to telling people things and having them agree whether they want to or not. I will try to work on it. Regina, in this world of ours, my control of everything around me, including my wife, needs to be seen as complete, total. If not I will appear weak. I can’t have that, it’s too dangerous. Between us it will be different, but it’s only between us.”

  Her eyes drop from mine. A small nod is her only answer as she pulls away from me. I don’t like letting her go, I allow it, this time.

  “I can guarantee you will want for nothing when it comes to sexual pleasure, princess. I can’t wait for you to deliver on the promise of that kiss.”

  I can’t take my eyes off the way the blush goes all the way down to her chest, fuck yes, her nipples are hard.

  “You are so vulgar. It was one kiss.”

  “A kiss divulges many things, much more than words do. Tells me you are as pure as you appear. How you’ve never come before. How you’ve never been kissed so good it made your pussy wet.”

  “You’re disgusting.” She’s fidgeting with my pocket square.

  At least she doesn’t try to lie. “No, I’m honest. And I honestly love eating pussy. I’ll always make sure you come every time before I take my pleasure.”

  Curiosity flickers before she shakes her head. “I don’t want to talk about...what did you mean you were never with teenagers even when you were one?”

  At least she’s talking. I secure my seat belt then check to make sure the road is clear before easing back onto the highway. “I mean I’ve never fucked a teenager. The first woman I fucked was in her late twenties, and I was fifteen. She was my social worker. After her, younger women never appealed. Pretty much all the women I was with from then on were in their mid-twenties and older.”

  “Your social worker? Fifteen years old? How—why?”

  I laugh at her outrage. “Calm down. It wasn’t a big deal. I’ve looked like I was twenty since I was fourteen. I shot up almost five inches in only four months and I’ve been lifting weights since I was twelve.”

  “None of that matters, it was illegal for Christ’s sake. She took advantage of you. Why did you need a social worker?”

  “If anyone took advantage of anyone it was me taking advantage of her. My mom died. My older brother, Anthony Junior, went a little nuts and got involved in shit he shouldn’t have. He wound up dead. Pop lost it, killed everyone involved with Anthony’s death. He got himself caught on one of the murders and got sent up for a nickel. I got saddled with a social worker.”

  I had definitely taken advantage of Sara. She’d been so small, delicate, and genuinely sweet with stars in her eyes, wanting to make the world a better place, completely unlike anyone I had encountered up to that point in my life. I wanted sweet, needed it at that time when my world was falling apart around me.

  “She was going through a rough time, divorcing an abusive asshole. Before Pop went in, he gave guardianship of me to one of his men, but then she came by and kept coming to make sure everything was good. I needed her to approve everything and go the fuck away so I could do what I needed to do. Paying her off wasn’t going to work, she needed more than money.”

  Regina is quiet for so long I glance her way.

  “What?”

  She’s studying me. “I just...I don’t even know where to start on asking you—I can’t believe everything you went through. When did your mom die? How did she die?”

  “When I was fourteen. She got addicted to painkillers from a car accident. Pop’s parents and her were in a car accident maybe three years before then. She was the only one to walk away from it. It was one of those things where she wasn’t paying attention to how much she took and she overdosed.”

  “Was it really an overdose?” she asks hesitantly.

  She’s not the only person to ask—Pop had wondered and so did Anthony. I was the only one who didn’t have a doubt. “Oh yeah, if she was going to kill herself she would have done it in a Gucci dress with her hair and makeup done. Not in what she’d worn for the last three days with her room a mess. Anthony Junior blamed Pop for it because Pop got her the drugs, not taking into account she’d have gotten them somewhere, had been getting extras when Pop wouldn’t give her what she wanted. Anthony went out on his own to get out from under Pop. He shouldn’t have been allowed. He was only seventeen, too damn young to run his own crew. But he was a Sabatini and our Don approved him to take the territory he would have inherited.”

  I shake my head, remembering how pissed Pop was. “My grandfather stopped running guns and drugs in the seventies. He didn’t want to touch it and he didn’t want Pop or any Sabatini to touch them. The Outfit has never trafficked women, it isn’t done. We handled sex workers but they were never forced. The one time a capo tried it his dick was cut off and he was left to bleed in the street, pants down for all to see his shame.

  Regina gasps.

  “There weren’t a lot of options for Anthony that didn’t have him stepping on toes. Guns were one of the few, so he went in on a deal with someone he didn’t properly vet. The scum, Michael Corsia, was also moving women. Anthony told him to let the women go.”

  “The guy said no?” The words are soft, she already knows the answer.

  “Yeah, and Anthony with all of one man as backup put a gun in his face.” Even now I can’t believe how stupid he was to do it. “There were six men there the night my brother was killed. Pop lost his shit, in less than seven days every one of them was dead. He came close to getting away with it, except there was a witness at one of the killings who came forward. Pop got manslaughter.”

  “What did you mean when you said you needed the social worker to go away and let you do what you needed to do?”

  Glancing her way, light flashes from the highway onto her face; those eyes of hers are wide. As if even though she asked she doesn’t want to know the answer. No, she doesn’t, not really. But she needs to know, all of it. “I mean Pop went away and fuckers were out to get what was his, what was supposed to be mine when I came of age. It was your father who, as the underboss at the time, kept the civilized members of our family at bay by offering me his protection, who gave me my rites into the family and my first hit for my induction.”

  “You were only fifteen years old when you—oh god.” She says god in a whisper.

  Nodding, I sigh. Even now, almost twenty-five years later, I still remember the first time. All the other men I’ve killed blurred together, but the first one, I can’t forget that one. The shock on his face, the sound of the gun going off, the way it bucked in my hand. How much blood there was, everywhere. The smell of gunpowder, the copper tint of the blood filling the air. For almost three months every time I slept, I dreamed of that moment. Until the next time I killed someone and the dreams went away.

  “I’ve known since I learned my name it would be the life I would lead. Pop and his father ingrained into me from a young age that as a Sabatini, this life came with a duty that would necessitate doing things others couldn’t. I’m not proud of the killing I’ve done. At the same time, I don’t regret doing what needs to be done or let it keep me up at night.”

  She’s shaking her head, looking out the window, but I know she’s not seeing anything.

  “I did what I had to do, Regina. When other kids were playing checkers, I was taught chess, to always play five moves ahead. You and that idiot thought you were going to win against Johnny. Neither of you thinking ahead from your next move.”

  “Some people are just trying to follow their heart. Not everyone is cold-blooded, thinking in terms of moves and strategy. That’s not a way to live your life.”

  “Those who don’t are destined t
o regret it.” It’s hard not to laugh at her naivety.

  “Fifteen.” She buries her face in her hands. “Johnny could have helped you find a way out of the life. But no, he helped you become a killer at fifteen.”

  “Look, Regina, your father allowed me to keep and maintain control of my legacy. There was no other life I was going to lead. He gave me what I wanted. The help I needed to keep Pop’s bookie, loan shark, liquor, and club running. People didn’t want to pay a fifteen-year-old, they thought they could tell me no and I would go away. Becoming made, having your father in my corner restored a semblance of order.”

  Without Johnny I wouldn’t have anything I do now. She might hate him, but I owed him my life. I have no doubt it would have all been gone by the time Pop got out if it weren’t for Johnny.

  “Only it didn’t cover everything. I had to get into things to bring in more money. The lawyers for Pop’s trial were expensive, people were trying to shaft me on the daily. It meant I had to run the streets. I put together underground fights, and poker games for dumbass college kids. By the time Pop got out after three years, I tripled his income and earned the respect of everyone in the family, and more importantly the fear I needed so no one dared to fuck with me. The social worker was a problem, I solved it in a way that worked for the both of us.”

  “I don’t understand how sex was a solution.” She is genuinely confused.

  Young, too damn young. “She needed to feel like someone cared about her, that she was desirable. Her job was fucking hard. She needed someone to vent to, who she thought cared about her. For a few hours a day I made her come until her eyes rolled into the back of her head, then held her while she talked about what she needed to get out of her system. In return she didn’t try and remove me or give me hell for missing school. Instead she put me on track to get my GED so I could stop going altogether.”

  “How long did...it last with her?”

  “For two years, until she decided to move away. By the end, we both got what we needed out of it.” I definitely took advantage of Sara. At the time it started she was a means to an end, by the time it was over her softness and kindness were what got me through the dirty shit I needed to do.

  7

  Regina

  I can’t believe this is my life, sitting beside a man who is telling me he’s been a killer and psychopath since he was fifteen years old as if he were discussing the weather. No wait, he’s a sociopath—he has a conscious, he just ignores it. And he’s asking me to go quietly, meekly, into a marriage with him. Please, please wake up now. I squeeze my eyes so tight I see stars. Nope, still living this nightmare. For a few minutes he had seemed so nice. Actually, he’s still nice. And that’s what makes him so dangerous.

  Him being nice and that kiss, that kiss that felt like I was touching a live wire. A current ran through my body, so strong even now I ache from it. It was the moment I put my hand in his all over again, yet this time I didn’t want it to stop. I stare blindly out the window. Dominic Sabatini tasted like sin, and sex, and all the things that dirty dreams are made of. I shiver at how badly I want to taste him again, at how I hadn’t wanted it to end.

  Nothing in my entire life has ever felt as good as his kiss. For an all too brief moment I forgot everything; nothing existed but Dominic. The heat of his body against mine, the taste of him. The sensation of his velvet tongue sweeping into my mouth, slow and almost gentle, at odds with the growl that rumbled out of his chest. Then reality came crashing down, and I’m wondering if I dare to open the car and throw myself out of it.

  Rolling my eyes, I shake my head—don’t be stupid. Dominic promised he wouldn’t hurt me. I just have to wait for the right moment to escape all of this. Eventually, I can escape and find a new home.

  Home. “Where do you live? Do you live with a woman?”

  “In the building where I have my club. There was a woman, she overstepped today and she’s been removed.”

  “Removed?” I’m uneasy at how cold he is.

  Dominic chuckles. I hate the way he laughs at me. It’s really annoying the way the sound sends heat up my tummy. “She didn’t want to leave. Have no fear, she’s in one piece and walking and talking just fine.”

  “How did she overstep?”

  “She wanted to meet Pop.” He says it as if she were asking to meet the Pope.

  “Why was it overstepping?”

  “It was the second time she’d asked to meet him. She wanted to be my girlfriend.”

  The word girlfriend is muttered like it’s offensive to him.

  “She wasn’t, she was my mistress. My rules are simple: you don’t ask questions about what I do, any of it. Where I go, what I do, who I do it with. If I want you to know, I’ll tell you. I told Serena that the first night and she agreed.”

  “Are you going to have a mistress?” I can’t say the words “once we’re married.” I can’t allow my mind to go that far.

  He shrugs. “We have to seal our marriage, there’s no way around it. I’m also not going to force you to fuck me. I have no problem finding women who want to fuck me. If you don’t want to be a real wife to me, I’ll have a mistress. Sex is a normal appetite that needs to be fed. This marriage will be what you make it. I’m willing to put in the work, if you are too. I won’t ask you to give more than I do.”

  The idea of him with someone else sends an ache shooting through me. How dare he tell me he would touch another woman while he was married to me. “That’s bullshit. Let me guess, I don’t get to fuck another man?”

  “No other man touches you.” The words are a growl that reverberates around me, sending a shiver up my spine. “If you aren’t fucking me then you aren’t fucking anyone else. You have more control of your life and what happens in it than you’re acting like you do.”

  “Oh yeah, sure. Go passively into a forced marriage, lay back and think of the good of the family and allow you to fuck me. Shut up and smile and be a good girl with no thoughts or feelings of my own.”

  “How the fuck do you have such an attitude? This wasn’t the way you were in that Catholic boarding school. I won’t believe it. Also, how do you not have an accent after living in Italy for so long?”

  I shrug. “I didn’t speak for the first four years I was there.” I shake off the embarrassment of admitting it out loud.

  “When I started to speak, I was told by Mother Superior that Johnny didn’t want me to speak Italian more than English. One of the attractions of the school was for the students to learn English, so even though I didn’t understand Italian, there were two teachers who spoke English and some of the older girls knew English too.”

  “As for the attitude. No, I wasn’t like this before I came to New York. What can I say? Moving to New York and being around Johnny and his men changed me. When I first got here they weren’t very nice. Any time I was in the least bit timid they made fun of me and laughed at me. I got over it real quick.” The men had taken enjoyment in my blushes and shyness, often going out of their way to make me uncomfortable around them.

  “Francis and Danny dropped more curse words in a single week then I had heard in my entire life up to that point. Danny was willing to show me New York and let me hang out with him and his girlfriend. His girlfriend was nice, she talked me into standing up for myself.”

  Dominic shakes his head and punches his phone, changing the music from the blues that had been playing.

  “Eminem?”

  “Driver picks the music, shotgun shuts their cakehole.”

  I laugh against my will. “You did not watch that show.”

  A chuckle fills the car. Dang it, butterflies appear in my tummy, trapped and fighting to get free. “Yeah, I did. I’m more surprised the nuns let you watch the show.”

  “Oh it wasn’t easy, and I didn’t get to watch until after season five. Mother Superior received the box set as a gift from her sister in America. We were snowed in and running out of things to watch. It was out of sheer desperation we put the first disc in.
Within two weeks we were done with all five seasons. Best Christmas ever.”

  “That was your best Christmas?” His deep, rich voice is heavy with sympathy.

  I shrug. Feeling his eyes on me, I become fascinated by the fast-moving stretch of highway outside my window. “It was a girls’ boarding school run by nuns. There were never more than forty girls there from five to sixteen. What would you expect?”

  “What was the second-best Christmas?”

  “When Mother Superior told me they would pay for me to go to university so I could become a teacher and go back to the school to teach when I was done. I didn’t have to return to Chicago. It was the best present I have ever received. The assurance I could stay home.”

  “But it wasn’t your home. It was where you went to school.” He doesn’t understand.

  “It was the only home I knew. Johnny sent me there when I was six years old, only four days after the death of my mother. I talked to him once on the phone two weeks later and then I didn’t have any contact with him for seven years. There were no birthday cards, no Christmas presents, no letters, not a single fucking phone call. Then one day out of the blue he shows up at school when I was thirteen and told me it was time to come home to Chicago.”

  A shiver goes through me remembering how angry he was when I clung to Mother Superior, begging her not to make me go with him. “He exploded when I told him that I didn’t want to go with him. Threatened to stop paying for school, I wasn’t in New York a day before he brought it up. How it was my fault we didn’t have a relationship because I didn’t come home when he went to get me. I was the one who fucked everything up. Not the adult who ignores a six-year-old kid for seven damn years.”

  All the anger over how fucking unfair Johnny was, still is, comes pouring out of me.

  “Out of sheer coincidence, he came the day of my birthday. He had no idea what day it was. I expected, I don’t know, a present, a visit, not for him to demand I pack up my life and go with him now that his wife was finally dead. He refused to listen when I told him that the school was my home. I didn’t know anything else but the school. A school he sent me to without any fucking warning. He didn’t even take me to Italy, let alone drive me to the airport. Some guy took me to the gate, I flew all by myself. A nun picked me up at the airport and explained everything to me.” I take a deep breath, trying to get myself under control, embarrassed at the way I’m trembling.